The Most Beautiful Sound
by happycabbage
Summary: In a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade in 6th year, Harry is hit with a curse that causes him to go deaf. Will he be able to work around his disability and defeat the Dark Lord? HPSS ON HIATUS, STATUS PENDING
1. Prologue

Note: Like the majority of my stories, this fanfic will involve a Yaoi relationship. That is to say, two boys together in _that_ way. This story may also contain violence, language, or suggestive scenes. If you don't approve of that sort of thing, tough cookies, that's how I like to write. I love dark themes.

Disclaimer: If this world was of my own creation, then this wouldn't be on a fanfiction website, now would it? I just enjoy torturing the creations of the great J.K.Rowling.

You also may want to note that while this takes place during Harry's 6th year at Hogwarts, it is an AU and does not follow the storyline of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Anyways on to the story….

The Most Beautiful Sound

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Prologue

Ron, Hermione, and I were there that day, when it happened. When they made the attack on Hogsmeade. Of course they would attack then. Plenty of kids to maim and terrorize. Why would they pass up a chance like that?

The Death Eaters were merciless. I watched as they murdered our classmates right in front of us. I saw Parvati Patil and her twin sister Padma fall side by side. They killed Colin Creevey as he ran out of Zonko's in search of his little brother. Ernie MacMillan got caught outside the Three Broomsticks. He fought like a hero that day – it took three Death Eaters to finally bring him down. More victims of the Avada Kedavra curse, of the Dark Lord's followers.

Ron, 'Mione, and I, along with the broken remains of the D.A., had set up next to the road that led back onto the school grounds. We were defending the younger students, covering them while the other 6th and 7th years herded them back to the school. I remember I sent a body-bind spell at Macnair, then a stunner over towards Lucius Malfoy.

Then I spotted Bellatrix Lestrange. Sirius' cousin. His murderer.

I know Ron and Hermione called after me as I ran, yelled my name. I didn't care. I didn't listen. I was so angry, I could hardly think straight. All that mattered was that I get to her and kill her. Kill her, because she killed Sirius. She murdered my godfather.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was running after her, screaming any spell or curse that popped into my head. She was laughing at me, laughing as she ran, throwing spells back at me as I chased her through the village. I remember her laughter clearly. I can remember each and every sound of that day.

Screams, everywhere, all around me. Spells crackling through the air as they rushed past. The roar of the flames that enveloped the majority of the buildings. But always, around me, the screams. Screams of pain and fear. I'll always remember the sounds of that battle. If I forget everything else, I'll still remember those sounds.

I saw the jet of yellow light let loose from Bellatrix's wand. She was laughing maniacally the whole time. I turned my face away, trying to duck the spell. The curse missed my eyes. I'm not sure if that's what her target was or not. Either way, the yellow light hit me on the side of my head, right on my ear.

Merlin, it hurt. It hurt worse than anything I'd ever felt before. The pain surpassed even that of the Cruciatus. The blinding pain lanced through my skull, and the world spun as I collapsed. I heard someone – myself – scream horribly, and then there was nothing. No sound at all. Vaguely, I thought what a blessing the sudden silence was. My head still pounding with sharp explosions of pain, I crawled to my knees.

A pair of feet stood in front of me, and I looked up to find Bellatrix standing over me, wand leveled directly at my face, sick, black triumph etched all over her own face. I saw her mouth the words, "Goodbye, Potter," but no sound escaped her lips. She raised her wand to finish me off.

Very suddenly a shot of red light flew soundlessly from over my shoulder, striking Bellatrix full in the chest and knocking her to the ground. I looked behind me to see Professors Dumbledore and Snape. The headmaster had his wand raised, fury lining his face. I supposed it was he who had stunned Bellatrix. I stood slowly as the headmaster and Potions professor came over to me. My knees buckled, and I would have fallen had Snape not caught me first.

He held me tightly, but gently, and I sagged back into his strong arms. Part of my mind was wondering dazedly why I was allowing myself to be held in the arms of my most hated teacher, and wondering even more about why he was holding me like this in the first place. The other half of my mind was much more preoccupied with the agony still piercing through my head.

I felt Snape's lips move next to my ear as he spoke, but I didn't hear what he said. He waited a moment, then he turned me around so I was facing him, though he didn't let go of his hold on me. For that I was grateful – I doubted I could have stood on my own. He actually looked concerned. He said something. I didn't hear a sound. Frowning, he waited, then spoke again, and only then did it finally hit me.

Oh, did it hit me.

"Sir, I can't hear you." I felt my lips form the words, but there was utter silence. No sound reached my ears.

Snape's brow furrowed, and his lips moved soundlessly again. My eyes widening, I started to panic. "Sir, I can't hear what you're saying. I can't hear anything!"

I was deaf…

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End Chapter 1

Sooooo? What did ya think? Feedback is brainfood, makes it easier to continue the story! (wink wink)


	2. City Life

Author's Note: Language, violence, slash relationship (HPSS) Don't read if it bothers you.

Disclaimer: No matter how many times I go up to write this, I still get a kick out of it. This is a fanfiction website. Do you really expect it to be mine? It's Jo's. (disclaimer, honestly, I ask you…)

You can all thank **-HP-Paddy-** for this update. She got me to get my butt in gear and finish this chapter and get it posted. Paddy, this one's for you!

Onwards to the first chapter!

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Chapter 1) City Life

Snape sat next to me in the Hospital Wing. We were waiting for Madame Pomfrey to finish with others in more immediate need of medical attention so she could see what was wrong.

I barely noticed that most of the teachers were running back and forth, tending to the wounded. I was to busy having a bit of a mental breakdown. I could feel Snape rubbing soothing circles on my back, trying to calm me, staving off my panic.

Normally the mere thought of physical contact with my least favorite professor would have had me running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Now, though, it was accepted. Welcomed, even. Merlin knew I could use some comfort just then.

I was deaf. The thought was slowly sinking in as I realized what exactly that meant.

I would never hear my friends voices again. I'd never again hear the sound of thunder. Never hear laughter anymore. No more screaming crowds at Quidditch games. No listening to Ron curse the Slytherins, followed by Hermione's bossy and chastising yet still amused tones. No more wind rushing past outside the castle. No more of Malfoy's drawling insults. No more staying awake from Neville snoring. No more hooting and screeching of the owls as they brought the mail. No more of Snape's silky, sarcastic voice. No more music. No more happy, senseless chatter in the Great Hall. No more Dumbledore's speeches. Never hear rain beating down on the roof again. I was trapped in complete silence. Forever.

I bowed my head and felt a tear leak from my eye. Snape stopped rubbing my back, and the hand moved to my shoulder. _His hand is so warm_, I idly noticed, my head spinning as I tried to take it all in, all the things that had happened today.

A hand cupped my chin and lifted my head, forcing me to look up. Snape's concerned face was a few inches from my own. He didn't say anything. I was grateful for that. It would've just been another reminder that I couldn't hear.

One long white finger left my chin to gently wipe away the lone tear rolling down my cheek. Our eyes met, and I think he could sense how scared I was, how close to bolting in blind panic.

At that point in time, he didn't need words. His eyes conveyed his message just fine. _Don't worry, Potter,_ they told me,_ I will protect you. I will do everything I can to help you._ The eye-message helped me to calm down a bit.

I realized I had been breathing so fast I was almost hyperventilating. I slowed my breathing to regular as best as I could. I had gotten pretty short of breath, so I had to take a minute to catch my breath. My fists were clenched so hard, my fingernails had broken the skin on both my palms, leaving four crescent-shaped cuts lined up on each hand. Looking down at my lap, I tried to remove my fingernails from my palms without anyone noticing. They were embedded so deeply I couldn't help the gasp of pain that left my lips.

Not that I heard it.

Snape did though. He grabbed my hands and pulled them towards him, observing the damage with a frown. I winced. I hadn't wanted him to see. It was bad enough with my being deaf with having to add accidental self-mutilation to the list. He glanced up at me reproachfully, the dirty look informing me I should have said something. He pulled out his wand and tapped it against my palms, his lips moving quickly as he did the spell. A soft light blue glow washed over my hands. When it faded away, the cuts were gone.

I smiled shyly at him, the only method of thanks I could manage at that point, and he nodded. His eyes softened slightly, and he gave me a soft smile of his own. I just about fell out of my chair in shock, and the smile turned into a more familiar smirk.

He glanced over my head at something before standing up, speaking to someone behind me. I turned my head to find McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Pomfrey standing there.

Comprehension dawned when I saw the mediwitch. I felt relief flood through me. Duh. She could heal me and make it so I could hear again!

Couldn't she?

She regrew all the bones in my arm in second year in a single night. This should be no problem. But what if she couldn't? What if it wasn't fixable? I felt panic and fear start up again.

I stood as Madame Pomfrey was saying something to Snape. I watched him answer her.

The four of them bickered back and forth for a few minutes in a conversation that was silent to my ears. McGonagall took on a shocked and horrified expression, and glanced furtively at me before saying something to Snape. He didn't answer her, and she looked at me and said something to me. Frustrated, I turned to Snape. He rolled his eyes at my head of house and put on the trademark Snape Sneer before saying something that was quite obviously a scathing, sarcastic, remark.

McGonagall stared at me as though she had never seen anything like me before. Uncomfortable under the gaze, I looked down at my feet.

Feeling Snape's hand on my shoulder, I looked up into his onyx eyes. He stared at me for a moment, then turned to Pomfrey and looked at her pointedly. She waved her wand at me, obviously doing some form of diagnostic spell. A roll of parchment appeared out of thin air and dropped into the mediwitches waiting hand.

She unrolled it and scanned the paper before looking up at the other three. She glanced at me and said something to Dumbledore. He nodded gravely, looking like the tired old man he had been at the end of my fifth year, when Sirius died. McGonagall and Snape both took on a resigned expression, and Madame Pomfrey looked sad.

I wanted to tear my hair out and ask what was going on so loudly that even in my deafness I'd hear myself screaming at them. Instead I took the subtle approach and simply turned to Snape and waited for him to explain.

I blinked. Why did I want _him_ to tell me? I hated Snape. Why wasn't I turning to McGonagall, or to Dumbledore? Why Snape?

_Because I trust him more,_ I realized.

It was true. While he wasn't exactly nice, Snape was the one person who had never lied to me. He didn't treat me like some fragile glass ornament about to break. He respected me enough to be completely honest with me. And it was he who had sat here with me for the past three hours while Madame Pomfrey took care of the other patients.

He, out of all the teachers in the school, would have been the most helpful in tending the wounded, thanks to his vast knowledge of potions. But he chose instead to sit with his most hated student, who aside from being unable to hear, was completely uninjured. He had just sat with me, offering silent support and comfort, calming me when I felt on the verge of breaking down. The fact that he had done this for me was enough to endear the man to me, if only for a short while.

However, he didn't seem to be willing to try and explain everything anytime soon. He was once again speaking rapidly to Madame Pomfrey and the others. The other three staff members were listening intently. I watched, utterly confused, as Madame Pomfrey sad expression transformed into a why-didn't-I-think-of-that sort of smile, Dumbledore's eyes started twinkling blindingly, and even McGonagall was smiling. Then Madame Pomfrey turned to me and raised her wand, saying some spell before I could protest.

I felt a breath of cool air wash through me, then a slight tingling that seemed centered on my head. I closed my eyes as I felt the spell flooding through my head, but it didn't stop the tingling sensation. The spell finished up whatever it was doing, and the tingle faded, though I could still feel a slight thrum of the magic.

I opened my eyes to find all four of them staring at me. Snape said something to me. I looked at him irritably. I was bloody deaf. Why was he trying to talk to me? He knew very well that I couldn't hear what he was saying. He rolled his eyes and pointed at his mouth and said, "Try looking at my mouth when I speak, idiot."

I flushed angrily and glared at him, furious at the insult. Then my eyes widened in shock. I _understood_ him. I watched his mouth when he spoke and I could understand what he was saying. I still couldn't hear him, but I understood. I was reading lips.

"Get it now, Potter?" Snape said soundlessly.

I nodded, dumbfounded. "I can understand you," I said, slightly dazed at this revelation. "I still can't hear, but I know what you're saying."

"Exactly. The spell Madame Pomfrey cast made it so you can read lips. You should be able to function fairly normally now, since you can already speak. We just have to alert all of the teachers about your condition and get some special supplies for your schoolwork, and you should be alright. Did you have any questions?"

I thought for a moment. "This is probably a stupid question, but, can anything be done so I can hear again?"

Snape hesitated, which was all the answer I really needed. "I'm sorry Potter. There's nothing we can do about it."

"What was the spell Bellatrix used on me?"

The teachers all winced. Madame Pomfrey caught my attention before saying "The spell was called 'Ne Jamais Entendre'. It's a French curse that means 'never to hear.' It completely destroys the auditory nerve. Irreversably. I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done. I'm sorry, Potter."

I bit my lip and looked done at my feet, feeling the balloon of hope that had welled up within me when I saw Madame Pomfrey slowly deflate and disappear.

Two long slender fingers were placed under my chin and tilted my head back. My eyes met the solid black ones of the Potions Master. I felt the anguish and turmoil within me lessen slightly. He was always so calm, so cool and collected. I idly wondered how he managed it with all the "obnoxious brats" he had to deal with on a daily basis.

"Mr Potter," he said, his expression calculating, "Madame Pomfrey says there's nothing else wrong so you're free to go. If you wish, I can take you to Diagon Alley now so we can pick up some things to help with your little problem." He gave me a pointed look, and I quickly caught on to his hidden message. _I'll see that you can get away from here for a while so you can deal with this before all your friends have a chance to start crowding around and badgering you._

I nodded, and murmured my thanks, and he spoke with the headmaster for a few minutes. I tried using my newfound ability to follow their conversation, but found it much more difficult when the speaker was not facing me and more than one person was speaking, and I swiftly became lost.

Finally Professor Snape turned to me and informed me, "The headmaster will permit this trip only if we bring a small detachment of Order members with us as guards. Is that alright with you?"

I nodded. Anything to get away from the crowded Hospital Wing and the awkward questions from my friends. "How many people will be coming with us?" I asked him.

He Sneered. "Probably around fifty or so…" he said before turning and striding gracefully out of the infirmary.

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I never realized how creepy Diagon Alley could be when it was totally silent. I could see people rushing around to do their shopping, scolding children, speaking with friends, and discussing the destruction of Hogsmeade at the hands of the Death Eaters, but only now did I realize how weird it was for there to be no sound while they did this.

I glanced back at Shacklebolt and Tonks, who were tailing us. They were talking about something. I noticed my name mentioned, and I turned back around and quickened my pace to match that of my Professor. He glanced down at me, and noticing my troubled expression, slowed a little. "Thanks," I muttered, without looking at him.

Snape took me over to a small shop with the name _The Sixth Sense_ on the sign. The store windows displayed strange items; magical aides for the blind, deaf, and mute. Great. Just what I needed. It was like the whole Alley was out trying to shove it my face. "Look, Harry! Look, here! See this? You'll never hear again. Here, come buy some junk to try and make up for your handicap!"

I stood at the entrance staring at the store. Suddenly I couldn't do this. I couldn't admit it. If I went into that shop, it was real. I walked away from the store, cutting through the crowd over to a narrow side alley. I leaned back against one of the buildings next to the handicap shop. Snape had already entered the store and didn't notice I was gone. I slid down the alley wall into a sitting position, knees drawn up to chest, arms wrapped tightly around legs, chin resting on my knees. I looked out at the crowds of people, watched them speak, and laugh, and take advantage of their glorious ability to hear. Closing my now-burning eyes, I bowed my head in grief. Oh, how I envied them.

I felt a hand on my face, gently brushing away the tears. Startled, my eyes flew open and I jerked my head up to find Snape crouched in front of me. His face was as emotionless as usual, but when his dark eyes stared into mine, and I could tell that he understood how I was feeling.

He sat against the wall next to me and, much to my surprise (and even more surprising, comfort) put his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. And that was it. I couldn't hold it back any more.

I cried for what felt like hours. Into Snape's shoulder.

A few monthes or even weeks ago this would've been wrong on so many levels. But now, much like earlier today, I welcomed it with open arms. He never once pulled away, or Sneered, or even protested at all. Snape just held me, let me cry, gently stroking my hair. It soothed me, and after a time my tears ran out and I pulled back, feeling awkward. We just sat there for a while, neither saying anything.

After a few moments Snape stood, offering me his hand. I stared at it for a moment before taking it and allowing him to pull me to my feet. He put his hands on my shoulders, ebony eyes boring into mine. "Come, Harry," he said and walked out of the alley.

I stared after him for a moment. He had comforted me, allowed me to cry in his arms, smiled at me, and called me by my first name.

Who was he and what had he done with Snape?

The Potions Master stuck his head back arounds the corner, and, noticing me still standing rooted to the spot in confusion, let loose the Sneer. "Are you just going to stand there all day, Potter? Hurry it up already." He turned back around and continued on back to the shop. I followed after, chuckling and shaking my head in amusement. Maybe he was still Snape after all…

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The store actually had some pretty cool stuff. Snape led me all over the little shop, handing me items that could prove useful.

I got some quills that would write down whatever the teacher was saying, so I wouldn't have to worry about trying to take notes and could focus on the discussion at hand. I grabbed a few extra sets of those for Ron and Hermione. Merlin knew Ron would need them, and Hermione was grateful for anything that aided her education.

Then there was a bracelet that would heat up slightly to alert me if someone was speaking to me and I didn't notice.

There were special spellcasting practice wands that created an illusion of the effect of the spell it was used to cast. This would prevent any accidents while I worked out the pronounciation of new spells, as I could no longer hear if I was saying it wrong.

I also grabbed some books on both Wizarding and Muggle sign language. I wanted to be certain that all methods of communication were open to me.

We went up to the counter and Snape paid for everything. He warned me as he passed the bags to me on our way out that if I tried to pay him back I'd be the guinea pig for all his experimental potions until I graduated. "And if you tell anyone I'm doing all this for you, you will die the most horrible death I can come up with."

Snickering, I followed him back towards the Leaky Cauldron. We'd be using their Floo system to get to the Headmasters office, which required a special password (which oddly enough wasn't the name of a candy) to get through, so as to keep out unwelcome visitors.

We entered the old pub but before we went through the fireplace on our way home, I stopped and pulled Snape to the side.

He looked at me questioningly and I spoke quickly before he could ask. "Sir, I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me today. And I also wanted to ask if you could lease not tell anyone about me being deaf?"

He narrowed his eyes at me before saying, "Why not?" then he Sneered, "Don't want your perfect reputation to be tarnished? Afraid of what your fans will say?"

I glared at him. "No. I just want to be like everyone else. A nobody. A nameless face. Since that's never going to happen, I would at least like them to not make a big fuss over their precious hero being handicapped. I'm tired of being different."

He looked slightly taken aback at first, then nodded. "I understand, Mr Potter. And I am sorry. I will tell no one. And I will inform Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster that you wish for no one to know. Mind you, they'll probably have to tell your other teachers so they can adjust their teaching methods around your disability, but if you don't want to tell your classmates, that is your business."

He strode over to the fireplace and, tossing the Floo powder onto the fire and stepping into the flames when they flashed green. I gazed after the Potions Master for a moment before following him through the flames back to the school.

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(sigh) I finally got this chapter written and put up! Took forever I know. I dunno when I'll get the next chapter up, as I really have no clue where this is eventually headed.

**Jinx: What about that thing we talked about earlier?**

Shh! They aren't supposed to know about that! (ahem) Sorry, that was my little angel-kitty muse, Jinx. He's generally not allowed to say anything on my author notes, but he wants to be annoying. He really helps out with my stories though. When he feels like it. Stupid feline.

**Jinx: Pshh, what are you gonna do, fire me? I think not.**

Oh shut up you.

Oh, I almost forgot! My Frenchiness, as my best friend calls it, is crap, so I used an online translator, Babelfish, to get the French words for this chapter. I don't know if it's entirely reliable, so, please, if I got it wrong, please let me know so I can fix it!

**Jinx: You know, you could've just asked your French teacher in class today…**

Quiet, you!


	3. Discussions

Author's Note: Slash, violence, some swearing, but not much.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Stop rubbing it in.

Wow, I got quite a reaction from you guys for the last chapter! I didn't realize this story would be so popular. (sniff sniff) I feel so loved! (sniffle)

I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in…almost a year…0w0 oops…I actually have this story planned out up to chapter 12; I've just had a horrible time actually trying to get the words out on paper. I blame school, M&Ms, and the other authors here at ffnet (the ones that actually update, thus making me want to read more than write).

Enjoy the new chapter!

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Ch 2) Discussions

Dumbedore looked up from his folded hands at the teachers seated around the staff room table. He had gathered all of Harry's instructors together so as to inform them of the Boy-Who-Lived's condition. He was just waiting for Severus and Harry to return from Diagon Alley. He had a specific job, related Harry's newest problem, for both the Potions Master and one of the other teachers. After garnering their agreement, he would need to speak to Harry about it as well.

Said other person, the newest Defense teacher, Professor Jordan Merryl, sighed irritably and beat his fist down on the table. "Must we wait for Severus, Headmaster?" he demanded, "I have some important matters to attend to, can't you just tell us what is going on so we can leave, and inform him when he returns later?"

Dumbledore looked sharply at him. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Jordan, but this is a matter of great importance, and I do not wish to have to repeat myself. In any case, I will need to speak with both you and Severus about an important duty immediately after the staff meeting, so you may as well stay."

Merryl narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the door opening with a bang, admitting one Severus Snape. The Potions teacher swept in and made a beeline for the Headmaster's seat, bending over and whispering something to him.

The rest of the staff watched, perplexed, as Dumbledore listened intently, nodding and then whispering back. The Potion's Master stood up straight and gave a swift nod before walking over to the empty seat next to McGonagall and across from Merryl, his face a blank mask that let nothing slip.

Dumbledore stayed quiet for a moment before sighing. "There are times when it is wise to be subtle, but at this moment I am just going to be very straightforward with you all. Harry Potter was hit by a curse this morning that has caused him to become deaf."

The staff remained silent for a moment, staring at him in shock, before everyone began speaking at once. Dumbledore held up his hand for quiet, and gradually everyone quieted again, the silence broken by only a few soft mutterings.

"I understand many of you will have questions, and I assure you that I will answer them, but first and foremost I must ask each of you here for your word that what I have just told and will tell you will go no further than this room. This must be kept a secret. If it is not, the consequences for the culprit while be highly…undesirable. Do I have your word?"

He stared hard around the table at the witches and wizards gathered there, no trace of his infamous twinkle to be seen. One by one, each of the assembled Witches and Wizards nodded and murmured their consent. Once all the staff had given their word to stay silent, Dumbledore began to speak once more.

"Now, then, as I was saying, Mr. Potter was rendered deaf during the attack on Hogsmeade this morning, via the curse 'Ne Jamais Entendre.' It is, unfortunately, permanent. Severus has just returned from a quick trip to Diagon Alley with Mr. Potter to get some supplies that will aid him to maintain as normal a life as possible. I ask you to please try to keep up this normalcy during classes with him as much as possible.

"Poppy used the Lip-Reading Charm on him, so he is able to understand speech fine. For some strange reason, many people seem to think that by speaking louder, deaf people can understand them better. Let me assure you, this is not the case. So long as he can see your face quickly and you use the proper pronounciation of the words, he should have no trouble, so there is no need to raise your voice.

"Try not to single him out; whether out of pity or contempt, it does not matter. Treat him as though nothing has changed. However, I will ask that you look out for problems that may arise during classes as a result of his disability."

The teachers all nodded solumnly, and Dumbledore gave them a small smile. "Questions? One at a time, if you please."

Everyone remained silent for a moment before the Astronomy teacher, Sinistra, spoke up. "Who cast the curse?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange. I stunned her just as she was about to finish Harry off. She was taken into custody by the Aurors, along with seven other Death Eaters that were captured today."

"How is Harry holding up?" squeaked Flitwick, concern for his student etched onto his face.

This time it was not Dumbledore who answered, but Snape. "He's taking it as well as can be expected. He's quite shaken up, but I think he'll be alright. He had one breakdown while we were at Diagon Alley, but seemed to recover fairly quickly."

Flitwick nodded, though his eyes and furrowed brows still belied his concern.

"Albus…" McGonagall began tentatively, as though she were almost scared to find the answer to her question. She stopped and bit her lip, looking troubled.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, concerned, "What's on your mind?"

She looked up, her jaw working to form the words before she managed to find her voice. "Albus, what about Voldemort?"

Everyone else at the table save for Dumbledore flinched back at the name. The Headmaster simply stared straight back at McGonagall. "I have a solution for that, which is the reason I need to speak with Jordan and Severus after the meeting. We'll take care of it, don't worry."

He looked around the table at the other staff members. "Were there any other questions at this time?"

They all shook their heads.

"Very well, then. If you have any questions, please feel free to come by my office anytime to ask. If that's all, I would like to speak to Severus and Jordan alone. Minerva, you are Harry's head of house, you may remain as well."

The rest of the staff took that as a sign to go and took their leave. They rose from their seats and shuffled to the door, murmuring amongst themselves about what they had just been told.

Once the last one had left and shut the door behind him, the three remaining staff members turned to face the headmaster. Snape arched an eyebrow questioningly, while McGonagall just waited patiently. Merryl, however, asked in an annoyed tone, "Well? What is it?"

McGonagall's mouth thinned at the disrespect in his voice, while Snape's lip curled into a sneer. Dumbledore merely smiled. "It is true that Harry's disability puts him at a severe disadvantage for his destined battle with Voldemort. Therefore, we have to give him a new means of sensing his surroundings. I am, of course, speaking of aura sensory."

The three teachers stared at him, dumbfounded. Finally, Snape managed to find control of his voice and gasped out, "Aura sensory? Headmaster, are you serious? That is a very difficult piece of magic, even harder to work than Occlumency! If he does not have a talent for it, he won't be able to do it at all! As it is, there are only a small handful of people capable of it in the entire world."

"Ah, but Severus, I do believe he has that gift. Harry is quite capable. And in case you've forgotten, both Jordan and yourself are a part of that handful. I think you will find that between the two of you, you can teach him all there is to know about it's use."

The three Professors just continued to stare at him incredulously. He tried once more. "Please, Severus, Jordan…For Harry…for the entire Wizarding World…they are all depending on him. And because of that, Harry is depending on us. We must teach him all we can, so that he can complete his task. Please, do this."

Snape finally tore his eyes away from the headmaster, giving his head a slight shake and casting his glance onto the tabletop. McGonagall closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. Merryl just continued to look piercingly at Dumbledore, the Headmaster matching him stare for stare. Finally, Merryl turned to look across the table at his colleague.

"Severus? What say you?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Snape blinked and looked up, first at Merryl, then turning to Dumbledore. He hesitated, his jaw working, before finally he shut it with a sigh and nodded. "I will do it. Like it or not, Potter must learn this. He is our only chance against the Dark Lord. If we fail, then he surely will, and I will not sit by and let that happen. I will teach him."

Dumbledore smiled and turned to face the Defense Professor. "Jordan?"

Merryl looked up, then glanced at the other two teachers watching him before shrugging. "Sure. I'll help. I can't promise that we'll succeed, but I'll try."

Dumbledore smiled again, a twinkle appearing in his eyes again. "That's all I can ask for, Jordan."

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When I returned through the floo to the Headmaster's office, I had found Snape speaking to a House Elf in the middle of the room. He finished taking the Elf's message and then turned to face me as it silently disappeared. I paid careful attention as Snape informed me that Dumbledore had called a staff meeting and wished to speak to me immediately afterwards. To my relief, I was finding that the lip-reading was not actually as difficult as it seemed. Of course, that could have merely been because it was a spell.

I followed Snape down a couple of floors to the staff room. Several students passed us on the way, but luckily for me, none of them tried to stop and talk with me. In fact, the students gave us a wide berth…probably because of Snape death-glaring at anyone and everyone who approached us. I found it slightly amusing, but as we walked, I still wondering why the hell Snape was being so nice. I mean, this is _Snape_ we're talking about. Why was he doing all this? It didn't make any sense.

I was shaken out of my musings by my Potion's professor coming to a sudden stop in front of me, almost causing me to run into him. Dammit, but I would have to pay more attention! I backed up a few steps as he turned around and began to speak. "You wait out here. I will call you in when it is time, alright?"

I nodded and moved to sit on the bench outside the door that he had directed me to. When I turned around, he was still there, watching me, his face blank. I looked at him quizzically, and he sneered but said nothing, choosing instead to turn on his heel, his robes doing that amazing billow effect that no one else can seem to master, and enter the staff room, shutting the door behind him.

I stared at the door for a moment after he left before blinking and leaning back against the wall with a sigh. I looked down the hallway in both directions. There was no one there. Good. I would rather no one see this.

Cautiously, I pulled the shrunken bag of merchandise out of my pocket and tapped it with my wand, making it grow back to its original size. I glanced both ways again before reaching into the bag and pulling out the special bracelet I had gotten. I pulled off the tags and slipped the simple metal ring over my right hand to rest on my wrist. There. It appeared to be an ordinary enough bracelet. No one would be able to tell that it was helping me discern when someone was talking to me.

I reshrunk the bag and placed it in my pocket, leaning back again and closing my eyes briefly. God, what day this had been. First Hogsmeade is attacked, then I am suddenly thrust into a world of eerie silence, and then Snape starts being nice. If I didn't know better I would've said it was just a very strange dream. But I knew it wasn't.

No, this was very real.

I opened my eyes halfway, just in case someone came by. I didn't feel like getting snuck up on, whether it was on purpose or not. I was tired, but I knew it would be a while before I could sit down and sleep. I had to wait just a while longer, but oh, I was so exhausted.

Several minutes passed, and just as my eyes were beginning to drift shut again, a movement across from me woke me out of my doze with a start. I breathed in deeply, trying to shake off the shock of the adrenaline flooding my system as various members of the staff exited the staff room, talking amongst themselves. Some of them cast curious, sad, or even horrified glances my way, and a few were even openly staring. I felt my face flush and averted my gaze, looking down at the floor.

I felt the metal ring about my wrist heat slightly and jumped slightly when a hand landed on my shoulder. My head snapped up to find my eyes directly level with the wrinkled, concerned face of Professor Flitwick.

"How are you doing, Mr. Potter?" he said.

Internally, I wondered at the strangeness of being able to understand what someone was saying without even hearing a sound. I wet my lips and somehow managed to speak. "I – I'm fine, sir, thanks for asking." I winced as I wondered what my voice sounded like, when I tried to speak without hearing how I said it. Had all the words been pronounced right? Were they slurred together? What about my tone and volume? Maybe I was now talking in a monotone? Perhaps too quietly for him to hear? Or maybe too loud?

But my Charms teacher continued on, and did not seem troubled by the way I had spoken, so perhaps I still sounded the same? Ugh…my brain hurt.

"That's good, Potter. I'm am terribly sorry for what happened to you, and I just thought I would give you my condolences," he mouthed, a kind, sad smile on his face.

I self-consciously looked down at my lap. "Thank you, sir," I said.

I felt the bracelet heat again and looked up in time to catch most of his sentence. " –like the world is falling apart at the seams nowadays." He sighed. "I just hope that this war will end before too much more can become destroyed, before any more people can be hurt or lost. We lose so many to violence and war…it's such a shame."

"Any person hurt or lost is one too many…no matter how or when it happens." I said, glancing down at the floor sadly. I looked up to see him giving me that same sad smile.

"Too true, Mr. Potter, well said." Flitwick paused, frowning and biting his lip as though thinking or troubled. At length, he spoke again. "Potter, if you need anything, someone to talk to – "

Oh great. I just knew that when people found out they'd start volunteering to help, like they knew what I was going through. Congratulations, Professor, you're the very first person to treat me as an invalid by offering your assistence.

" – then I would recommend you speak to Severus – that is, Professor Snape."

I blinked again. What did he just say?

He gave a small smile at the surprised expression on my face and continued. "I think you may find that the two of you have more in common than you think."

He patted me on the shoulder before turning and walking down towards the end of the hall, leaving me to stare after him, my brow furrowed in confusion. What the hell had _that_ meant?

The metal band warmed once again for the third time in several minutes, and I looked around to find Professor Snape himself standing in the doorway to the staffroom, holding the door open with one arm. "The headmaster wants you to come in, now, Potter."

I stood without saying anything and walked over to Snape, passing by him and entering the staffroom. I paused just inside the doorway as the Potions teacher shut the door behind me and moved to sit down next to McGonagall and across from the new Defense teacher, Merryl. I stood still for a few moments before Dumbledore motioned for me to come sit by him. I hesitated slightly before complying, walking slowly over to the seat he had offered me and sitting stiffly.

"How are you holding up, Harry?" Dumbledore asked me. God, but I was so tired of that question already, and I'd only been asked two or three times so far! I wondered how many times I would be hearing – seeing? Reading? Whatever, you get my meaning – those words over the next couple of monthes.

I shrugged. "Alright, I suppose," I answered.

"Good, good…" he said, watching me closely over his half-moon glasses. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, just sat there staring at me. I started feeling uncomfortable, fidgeting slightly when his gaze didn't waver and his expression didn't change.

Finally he looked away, casting his gaze at the two professors sitting across from me. I looked over to see Snape glaring at the headmaster, apparently having just said something that I hadn't been able to hear. The bracelet heated again, and I turned my head back to face Dumbledore, who was looking at me again.

"Harry," he said, "I wonder if you have perhaps thought on what the consequences of your disability will be concerning the prophecy."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He made it sound like it was my own fault I was deaf! "No sir," I said, "I haven't."

"Well, as you can probably imagine, this will become a major liability in a battle. We cannot afford to have you wounded or killed before Voldemort is defeated."

"But it would alright if it happened afterwards, sir?" I said cynically.

He blinked, and I stared coldly at him. I would be damned if I let this meddling old codger treat me as a weapon, especially after all that shit last year about caring more for my comfort than for his plan. If any of that crap he'd tried to feed me was true, then I'd kiss Malfoy.

"Harry," he said with an apologetic smile, "You know that isn't true. You know very well that I care a great deal for you. I do not want anything at all to happen to you. Which brings me to my point. Have you ever heard of aura sensory?"

I frowned in thought, trying to remember if Hermione had ever mentioned anything like that, before shaking my head. "No."

"Aura sensory is a sort of sixth sense that Witches and Wizards, provided they are given the proper training, can develop and master. This sense detects the magical and nonmagical auras of your surroundings. It allows you to feel where and what magic is. The only thing is it requires a great deal of power and concentration, as well as a natural talent for it to be truly functional. It's an incredibly rare gift, and only a very few ever managed to master it. However there are rumours that those who have lost one of their senses, via blindness, deafness – "he nodded at me, "or paralysis are more adept at it and find it easier than others. A sort of replacement for what was lost, if you will."

"And you want me to learn this aura sensory, is that it?"

"Yes. Professors Snape and Merryl," he said, gesturing to each in turn, "Are both very proficient in the art, and will be teaching you."

How convenient that two of the current professors were so skilled in this aura whatever-it-is.

"And if I don't have this 'talent?'" I asked.

"I have faith in you, my boy," he said with a benign smile. Sure he did. He just didn't want to answer that question, because that would give way to the possibility that he might be wrong.

I leaned back in my chair, thinking hard about the idea. In turth, I really did not want to do this. I suspected something was up, with the way this was panning out.

Also, though this could have had something to do with the fact that every single Defense Professor since first year had tried to do me bodily harm, I did not trust Merryl. He just gave me the creeps. I had noticed during class that he stared at some of us students when he thought we weren't looking. He wouldn't be watching their work, just staring at them, his beady little eyes glittering strangely. I'd seen him watching Malfoy, Seamus, Lavender, and (what creeped me out most of all) myself. I really did not feel comfortable in his presence. However, Snape would be there, however small a comfort that was.

Then I thought about the idea of the lessons themselves. I could see why Dumbledore wanted me to learn this ability. It would be highly useful, especially in a battle situation. It was a method of detecting my surroundings, and as Dumbledore had said, it could help to make up for the fact that I could no longer hear.

As I pulled myself out of my thoughts, I realized that though I was looking straight at his face and the bracelet was feeling almost hot against my wrist, I had absolutely no idea what the headmaster had just been saying. I started paying attention again just in time to catch the end of his sentence.

" – can try an help you only if you let us, Harry. I know this is hard for you, but – "

I promptly stopped paying attention to the old Wizard, pointedly casting my gaze away from his face and down the table to catch Snape's eye. He smirked at my obvious disinterest in the headmaster's weak platitudes while the bracelet grew even warmer, almost hot to the touch. I hated it when people tried to coax me into doing things that they wanted me to do.

I supposed Dumbledore was getting angry at my disrespect, but I didn't care. I honestly had no interest in what he had to say to me, and I was never one for white lies.

When the bracelet suddenly cooled, I realized that Dumbledore must have stopped speaking. I then turned to look at the Headmaster and, giving him no chance to start on another tirade, said simply, "I'll do the lessons."

With that I calmly rose from the table and left the staffroom with a inwards smirk, catching a matching smirk and an amused gleam in the eyes of the Potions Master on the opposite side of the table.

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End Chapter 2

I honestly have no idea where Harry's little tantrum at the end came from. It seems right though. I don't really care for stories where Harry does whatever Dumbledore tells him to. It's not like he pays attention to rules in the books, so why would he do that in a fanfic?

And now, for something completely random, I just noticed that the acoustic version of "Just Say Yes" by The Cure on their double-disk greatest hits CD sounds like the music from the Spyro the Dragon playstation games. 0.o

Review!


	4. Classmates

Author's Note: Slash, violence, some swearing, but not much.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Stop rubbing it in.

Ahh, the beginning of a new chapter! Hope you like it! There's not much of Sev in this chapter, but we get to see some of the others now!

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Ch 3) Classmates

The first couple of days were absolute hell.

It was very nervewracking just to go down the halls. Since I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, I'm always having people calling greetings to me in the halls, whether they're friends, aquaintances, or complete strangers. Everytime I went into the hallway it seemed like the charmed bracelet was practically burning into my wrist. I quickly learned to stay extremely wary of my surroundings, and try to greet aquaintances as soon as I saw them. Otherwise, I had to wait until someone called me, and then have to look around and make a guess at who had spoken. It was enough to drive a person mad.

The first class after I returned to classes turned out alright, I guess. Transfigurations. We were supposed to be turning a section of the wall into a window. McGonagall treated me pretty much like normal, which I greatly appreciated. Then again, I had always held a lot of respect for Professor McGonagall. She may be strict, but that was part of the appeal; she didn't take any crap and had low tolerance for stupidity. She wasn't going to let up just because I couldn't hear anymore. If anything, she came down harder than usual on us.

Charms was pretty much normal too. Flitwick did cast a few more concerned glances my way than usual, but he was better than some of my other teachers.

Like Professor Sprout, in Herbology. It started out alright, though my mood quickly deteriorated when I noticed that Sprout was making some not-so-subtle attempts to be "helpful."

She had finished giving the instructions, and given us the okay to start. I was just about to begin pruning the Devil's Snare Hermione and I had been given when the bracelet heated up. I looked up. Professor Sprout was smiling sadly and kindly at me. "Are you sure you got all that Potter? Need me to repeat anything?"

I noticed some of our Ravenclaw classmates smirking at me and flushed slightly. Great job, Professor Sprout. Now everyone thinks I'm an idiot.

"No, thanks, Professor," I said, feeling a flash of irritation, "I know what to do."

Despite all my assurances, she continued in this fashion throughout the rest of the lesson.

As if Herbology hadn't been bad enough, I also kept getting stopped in the halls by various faculty members, offering their condolences and their aid, if I should need it. It was truly infuriating; I was deaf, not incapable! After the sixth teacher stopped me, I was this close to punching the next teacher to approach me in the face. I ended up in detention with Filch that Saturday after nearly hexing Professor Trelawney in the presense of Professor Merryl, the DADA instructor. I decided I hated all three of them with the white hot intensity of a thousand super novas after spending five hours cleaning the carriages that the thestrals pulled to and from the school, with Filch breathing down my neck muttering to himself the whole time.

I guess I sound pretty ungrateful; I mean, I know the staff means well and everything when they offer their sympathies. It's just…I don't want to be singled out anymore. I don't need yet another difference thrown in my face because of people's "best intentions". I suppose I just wish they'd all leave me alone, and mind their own business. I can take care of myself; I always have. And if I need help, I'll ask for it.

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Wednesday, I had lunch with Hagrid. We had started doing this every week at the beginning of my sixth year. After I lost Sirius in June, I had made an effort to stay closer with my friends, especially those in the Order. We were all at risk, and I didn't want to waste a minute of our time together.

Since Hagrid was one of my teachers, he had been informed of my…condition. Thankfully, he made nothing of it. I felt almost normal again during our time together, because he acted as though nothing had happened. I didn't mention it, and neither did he. We just talked, as we always did during our luncheons together. It was nice, and a great comfort to me, despite the fact that Hagrid's beard and accent sometimes made it difficult to read what he was saying.

We talked about the memorial service Dumbledore had held Monday afternoon for all the students that had been killed during the attack. Twenty-three students had been lost, five of which had been my yearmates; Ernie McMillan, the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma, and two of the Slytherins, Theodore Nott and Morag MacDougal. Colin Creevey, of Gryffindor had also fallen. Hagid was pretty upset about that; Colin had been one of his favourite students, always very eager to see what exciting new creature Hagrid brought to class.

A lot of the students were taking the losses hard. Lavender hadn't come out of the sixth year girls' dorm since her best friends death on Saturday. Hermione said she never said anything, just stared out the window in a stupor. Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey had removed her to the hospital wing just that morning, worried that she wasn't eating or sleeping. Hannah Abbot, who had been dating Ernie since the Yule Ball nearly two years ago, was constantly bursting into tears, often falling into hysterics before one of her friends had mercy on the poor girl and charmed her asleep. The Slytherins, normally standoff-ish and prone to fits of rivalry with the Gryffindors, were now nearly always silent and cold, a group of expressionless, nearly catatonic teens who seemed like they were barely alive. More than half of the students killed had come from their house.

Dumbledore had a momument placed by the lake, a statue of a child holding a wand in the air. Small carved stone feathers magically flew from the end of said wand, floating peacefully to the ground, where they stayed for a moment before disappearing. I took one of the feathers and cast a quick charm so it wouldn't disappear. I kept the stone feather on a leather cord about my neck, as a reminder of what I was fighting to protect.

At the base of the statue was a smooth expanse reserved for plaques bearing the names of every Hogwarts student killed during the war. The first name on the list was Cedric Diggory.

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Two weeks after the Hogsmeade incident, Gryffindor was scheduled for a Quidditch match versus Hufflepuff. I was glad for the distraction – after everything from the past few weeks I was going half crazy. It would be good for my classmates as well; they needed a sense of normalcy after the horrors of the Death Eater's raid on Hogsmeade.

I'm not sure what exactly it was that got me so mad in the first place. I think it was a comment Ron had made in passing during breakfast that morning. We had been talking over breakfast about the upcoming match, when Luna came in with her lion hat. Apparently it had let out a roar as soon as she sat down, because nearly everyone around me had jumped halfway out of their seats.

"You know, you'd think we'd be used to that roaring by now," Ginny had said, an amused grin on her face.

"Yeah, well," Ron answered, "Doesn't mean it's not going to bloody well deafen us everytime we hear it. And she did sit down right behind me."

My own smile had frozen on my face, and I looked down at my plate, my mind suddenly numb. Vaguely, I noted that the bracelet was heating, and I slowly looked up to see Hermione watching me, concerned. "You alright, Harry?" she had asked, "You look a bit pale. Are you sure you're alright for the match?"

I had given her a strained smile. "Yeah," I managed to say, "I'm fine. Listen, I'm…I'm going to head down to the locker rooms a bit early. I'll see you all later." I had quickly stood and collected my stuff, not looking at either of my two best friends. They knew very well that the match didn't start until eleven, and here it was only nine. They would figure out something was up.

I didn't care. I just needed to be alone for a while. So I headed to the locker rooms near the Quidditch Pitch. The whole time it took to make the short walk, I just kept imagining hearing Rons' comment over and over, echoing through my head.

I went into the locker room and dropped my stuff on the floor, sitting on the bench and just clutching my head, breathing hard. Everything from the past week was crashing around in my head, seeming louder than any sound I had ever heard before…

And the next thing I knew there was a huge dent in the locker in front of me and a sharp pain flaring through my knuckles. For a moment I just stared at my bloodied fist.

It felt so good.

With an unheard cry of rage I set upon the lockers, kicking and punching until my feet were sore, my hands ripped and bloody, and the salty taste of both sweat and tears was on my toungue. I picked up my bag and threw it as hard as I could against the wall, feeling great satisfaction in watching my schoolbooks scatter all over the ground. I kicked the spilt contents across the floor, cursing in fury.

I was beginning to run out of steam, but my rage at the world was not spent yet.

Why me? Why always me for everything? I just didn't understand why these things always happened to me.

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I don't know how long Ron had watched me beat the shite out of the lockers before approaching me. Maybe he was waiting for me to stop being violent, so as to avoid being hurt. Maybe he had only just arrived when I finally collapsed. Or maybe he had tried to call to me before, only to receive no answer. I don't remember feeling the bracelet heat, but then, I was in such a fury, I doubt I would have noticed if it had.

All I know is that when my strength finally gave out and the adrenaline wore off, when I collapsed sobbing onto my knees, suddenly Ron was there, holding me.

Normally Ron tries to be all tough and manly, and avoids all of that 'touchy feely crap', as he calls it. Comforting people is more Hermione's forté, or Neville's. Ron is just not one of those people…or so he likes to claim.

He did a pretty damn good job of it that day though.

I completely lost it, and after seeing me demolish the locker room with my bare hands, he had just sat down on the floor next to me, put his arms around my shoulders, and let me cry my eyes out all over his robes.

After the tears finally stopped coming, he pushed me back so I could see his face, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders. "What's happened, Harry? What's wrong?" he asked, but I just shook my head, unable to answer.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head again.

Ron stood then, and offered me a hand, which I accepted. He must have noticed me wince as he helped me to my feet, because he didn't let go, instead carefully examining my bruised and bloody hands. "You really did a number on yourself, mate," he glanced around the room, "Not to mention the lockers. Merlin, you kicked one of them so hard the door is inside out, now."

I shrugged, still not wanting to speak just yet.

Ron gently tugged me over to the bench and made me sit down. He left for a moment and came back with a first aid kit, sitting down on the bench next to me. "Hold still while I clean up these cuts," he said, pulling my hand into his lap. "You can't play Quidditch with your hands all messed up, can you?"

He smiled at me as his poured some potion onto a clothe, then gently massaged it into the cuts. We watched as they sealed up and disappeared, leaving only some pink scars to mark where they had been. Unlike some of the other scars I had, these would fade in time.

Wordlessly, Ron slid off the bench and started to unlace my shoe. I let him, still feeling too worn out from my…eruption…to protest. He pulled of my sock and shook his head over my reddened, rapidly swelling foot.

Pulling some bruise balm out of the kit, he smeared it onto my foot and rubbed it gently in. The viscous potion first felt cold, then warmed, soothing the pain in my abused extremity. I gave a sigh of relief, and Ron glanced up at me before repeating the process on my other foot.

After he was finished, he put away the potions and stowed the kit away in the office, then came back with a wet washcloth and carefully washed my face clean of tears.

He put the washcloth in the laundry, then returned to sit shoulder to shoulder next to me. We sat without speaking for a moment, then I just barely managed to whisper, "Thanks."

"No problem," he replied.

I watched his face carefully, so when he spoke next I was able to catch what he said without having to ask him to repeat it.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'm sure."

"You going to be alright now?"

I hesitated, then nodded. And I did feel better. I suppose I just needed to vent. The past week had been so insane…I had felt like my head was going to explode. But now I felt relieved, and strangely at ease, despite the dull ache remaining in my hands and feet.

"Yeah, Ron," I replied, looking at him and giving him a small smile.

He grinned. "Good. Now, let's get ready to play some Quidditch."

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End Chapter 3

Yeah, I know, tis a short chapter. But hey, it came out sooner than the last one did! And look! Harry-Ron bonding stuffs! Awwww! (bashes head against wall)

Please review!


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